


Gray

by ElderWhizzerBrown



Category: Spring Awakening - Sheik/Sater
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Except the ghost thing didn’t happen?, Extended Metaphor, F/M, Grieving, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Melchior is sad, Post canon, if it did he doesn’t mention it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-11-15 06:01:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18067919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElderWhizzerBrown/pseuds/ElderWhizzerBrown
Summary: Everyone treated him like glass after they died, expecting an outburst at the slightest provocation. But he didn’t cry, no matter how much he wanted to, didn’t even scream, no matter how satisfying it would be. He laid awake in his bed at the reformatory, staring blankly at the patterns on the ceiling.He wasn’t sad. He was gray.





	Gray

Everything was gray.

 

It was like when Moritz died, the pit in his stomach when he was told, and _it couldn’t be real, not his best friend, his only real friend, who’d never have shot himself-_

 

But it had been real, and it had been his fault. He couldn’t even look at the woods without wanting to vomit, knowing he’d neglected Moritz when he was in _that_ frame of mind.

 

Or as gray as when he waited for Wendla for almost an hour in the graveyard, noticed the fresh grave, the carved words _Wendla Bergmann, died of anemia,_ and pieced together what _wasn’t_ written, pieced together how he’d killed her.

 

He wasn’t sad. He was gray. He felt nothing.

 

Everyone treated him like glass, expecting an outburst at the slightest provocation. But he didn’t cry, no matter how much he wanted to, didn’t even scream, no matter how satisfying it would be. He laid awake in his bed at the reformatory, staring blankly at the patterns on the ceiling.

 

When he came back home once the school year was  over, it didn’t feel like home anymore. Everyone whispered behind his back about him losing his best friend and his girl within a month of each other. He hated it. He wished he could just be the same again as much as they did.

 

He hid in the woods, once he could stomach being near where Moritz died. His tree was too full of memories of both of them, but it felt good, in a way. He almost managed to let himself cry.

 

A twig snapped and he looked up sharply. Hanschen Rilow stood ten feet from him. He was suddenly flooded with anger at Hans for daring to invade his only sacred place. “What are you doing here? Get out!” 

 

“What?!” Hanschen asked, backing away.

 

He burst to his feet. “Leave! Go away! You shouldn’t be here, you bastard!”

 

The blond boy watched him carefully, not moving an inch. Somehow, this magnified the rage a hundred times.

 

He screamed. He screamed for Hans to leave, screamed at God for taking them from him when He wasn’t even supposed to exist, screamed at himself for being such a mess. It was as if all the emotion he couldn’t feel came flooding through him then. He screamed until the screams lost any semblance of language, until he collapsed and started to sob.

 

The ground was rough against his side as he moved into fetal position. What must Hans be thinking of him right now? He was being crazy.

 

“Hey, you’re okay.” He felt a hand on his shoulder and let out an embarrassing whimper. “Let it out. You’re gonna be okay.”

 

He opened his eyes to see Hanschen crouching next to him, and he suddenly didn’t care how he looked, just pulled him into a hug. He cried with his face on Hans’ shoulder, his hands fisted in the back of Hans’ shirt.

 

When he finally calmed down, he didn’t let go. “I think I fell in love with her here.” He made a noise he himself couldn’t interpret. “Or maybe I didn’t love her. I killed her, you know. And him. It’s my fault.”

 

Hanschen rubbed his back a little harder.

 

“I loved one of them. I’m not sure which.”

 

“You really never can be sure,” agreed Hans.

 

He looked at Hans’ face. His expression was calm, but not stoic. He was sad, but not hysterical. Hans was so perfect, and he was just gray. “I can’t feel anything, Hans. Nothing at all.”

 

“I know.”

 

He almost started crying again. Instead, he met Hanschen’s eyes. He watched as Hanschen leaned closer, he mumbled permission, and he let Hanschen kiss him.

 

“I’m gray,” he told Hanschen when he pulled back. “And I’m broken.”

 

“Are you now?”

 

He nodded.

 

“That’s okay. You’re going to be okay.”

 

And he could almost believe it.

**Author's Note:**

> Don’t ask me what this is cuz I don’t know


End file.
